


Snapshots from Indio

by chillafterdark



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:52:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chillafterdark/pseuds/chillafterdark





	1. Chapter 1

It’s 8:10 in the morning after last night, and they’re still sprawled across the bed, settled into silence after the noise. They’re starting to wake up because diurnal rhythms set in hard when you work for a living, but they don’t want to get out of bed yet because they don’t have to, for once. 

Will scoots over and rests his forehead against the ball of Chris’s shoulder, curving his body into a C and letting one hand reach out just to rest there, his fingertips just touching Chris’s hip. And Chris stirs, grunts and flops over to throw his arm over Will’s waist and slide his fingers up and down Will’s back a few times before he stills back into sleep, his breathing going deep and even.

Will shifts to drop a lazy kiss on his shoulder, to draw his knees forward so they can tangle against Chris’s, and follows him back down. It’s going to be a good day. It can wait.


	2. Chapter 2

"OK, good. Let’s get you started."

Will crowds in close just as Chris slams the shot glass on the kitchen counter, and he slips a wedge of lime into Chris’s mouth. The tequila burns, the lime stings his lips, and he can feel the last 12 hours of filming dissolve behind him, lost in his rear view mirror just like it really had been only half an hour ago.

Chris is expecting a kiss when Will takes the lime from him, but instead Will just smirks devious and dirty and holds up a slip of paper.

Chris takes it, turns it over, and feels the grin hit his face right as the tequila hits his belly. “A dinosaur. Very original."

"I thought so. Where do you want it?"

Chris holds out his arm, palm up, with a sigh. “This is why you met me with a tequila shot, isn’t it? To take away the pain of the tat?" 

"Naw, that was to loosen you up to let me mark up your body." His face moves quick, brows up and down, and the grin happens fast and then his hand is being tugged from the counter, up until Will has settled his mouth over the pulse point in his wrist and is sucking, licking the spot with broad wet strokes of his tongue. It’s not like it was a sensitive spot before, but now – Will’s grinning up at him with his eyes from where he’s hunched over his wrist, and he knows that look on that face. And yeah, he’s here now, completely, watching Will put his mouth on him.

And then Will lifts his mouth with one last wet, wet lick, peels the plastic from the paper, and slaps it onto Chris’s wrist before pressing his tongue against it.

"You know we’re in a kitchen, right? There’s a sink right there."

The glare is immediate, softened by the smile in Will’s eyes and his tongue still lapping over paper. He licks, presses, sucks at it, and then he pulls away and frowns. “Yeah, come here," and then he tugs Chris by the hips to the sink, his arm still hanging useless in front of him, his wrist pink and shiny and wet.

Will maneuvers around behind him and reaches to turn on the water, saturating the paper until the image finally shows through, and Chris tilts his head until his cheek is pressed against Will’s and watches until the paper is translucent, until everything is clear and perfect.

When he cuts the water and peels the paper away, he holds up his wrist for inspection. “What do you think? Satisfied?"

Will sucks his earlobe into his mouth and whisper-roars against his ear. “Rawwr!"


	3. Chapter 3

When Chris gets back from set that day, Will is finally back too, napping on his sofa with Brian to keep him company, almost smothering him, halfway between his shoulder and the throw pillow he’s resting his head on, mere inches from his face. If Will breathes in too deeply, he’ll get a mouthful of fur. Brian is so pleased with himself, happy to have someone to torment after days by his lonesome. 

Chris drops his things by the door and picks up the offending cat, shooing him down the hall and waking Will up in the process. “Mmm, you’re home," Will says softly as he scrubs a hand over his face trying to wake up faster than he’s able.

"Welcome back to reality," Chris laughs, throwing a leg over Will’s as he settles on the couch. Will returns the laugh, high and loud, and smiles.

"Nope, I’m still on vacation until I get to work tomorrow morning," he sing-songs as Chris runs a hand up his side, and he grabs his wrist when he sees it. “Well well, what’s this still doing here?" There’s a sly grin, and a twist to pull his wrist closer, and Chris buckles his weight on his other arm so he doesn’t topple forward. 

Will runs his thumb over the mostly-still in tact dinosaur tattoo. An armful of wristbands collected throughout the weekend kept it safe from heat and sweat and the general trials it normally would have been exposed to. The corners of his mouth curl up a bit more. “Wardrobe had you in long sleeves today, I take it." Chris says nothing, just lets Will plant a kiss over it, and something twists in his stomach as he’s taken back to the first night he arrived, tequila burning sharp down his throat and Will licking at his wrist almost identically to he is now. 

It seems like so long ago, but in reality, it’s only been a few days. Something flickers in Will’s eyes, and he flattens his tongue, running it up a vein in Chris’s arm, finishing with a kiss to his bicep. “It was a good weekend, huh?" Will offers, his voice low and content, and Chris wants to get lost in it.

His eyes are dancing when he replies, “According to you it’s not over yet."


	4. Chapter 4

They get a slow start, because fuck Coachella,  _sleeping in_  and  _hand jobs_ , but, eventually, they get there, wandering around some VIP something or other looking for one of Will’s friends and finding Mia and Darren instead. 

He’s sitting on her lap, zoning out at she pets her fingers through his hair.  It’s nothing Chris hasn’t seen before, but usually it waits until it’s been a much harder and much longer day.

“He okay?” Chris asks, by way of hello.

Darren slits his eyes open for a moment and hums, and Mia laughs.

“I’ll take that as a yes then,” Chris says.

“Slow morning,” Mia says.

“Niiiiiice morning,” Darren says.

 Mia gives a sharp tug to one of his curls and Chris snorts.

“Wow, way more information than I needed,” Will says holding up his hands, but he’s sort of lying.  He thinks they’re hilarious.

“Hush,” Mia says to him. “You’re not the only boy around here who likes to be bent over things.”

“Okay, waaaaay too early for this,” Chris replies.  Unlike Will, he’s totally not lying.

“Not really,” Darren says with a shrug.

“Darren, there is no way for you to become an active participant in this conversation that isn’t going to be terrible,” Chris says.

“Baby, go get us drinks? Them too,” Mia coos before shoving Darren off her lap.

 “Yup,” he says, and just like that he’s alert, gregarious and unembarrassed, and dragging Chris’s boyfriend away with him.

“Hey –“

“I only have two hands,” Darren calls back to him.

 Will shrugs.  “He’s not wrong.”

 “Oh my god, he’s so wrong,” Chris murmurs under his breath, turning to stare down at Mia helplessly.

 Without Darren on her lap, she’s sprawled down on the lounger now like it’s poolside, but there’s no water anywhere.  She smiles up at him pats the sliver of space next to her, and Chris goes ‘cause he can’t not.

 “Why are you always so soft?” he asks, curling up next to her and butting his head against her shoulder.

“Boobies.”

“I’m not even on your boobies.” 

“But you want to be.  Also you just said boobies.”

Chris groans.  “Shut up.”

“Hangover?”

Chris makes a considering noise.

“Sexover?”

“Ha.  Outdoorsover.  Sunover, I think.”

“Are you having fun?”

Chris rolls away from her, onto his back, and there’s not really enough room for it and he almost falls off the lounger, making the whole thing bounce as he tries to keep himself from toppling the few inches to the ground.

Mia cackles.

“Look, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I talk I’ll say something stupid.”

“God, the things Darren could learn from you.”

He elbows her.  Hard.  She elbows back.  Harder. And there’s a moment where they stare at each other, seriously considering if this is going to turn into wrestling in the dirt.  Something shifts in her eyes, and Chris nods.  Yeah, they can’t, and that’s sort of sad.  This time he just nudges his arm against her.

“So. Talk,” she says. 

“I’m in love,” he says with an air of mock desperation.

“So?  Not news.” 

Chris sighs.  Now he has to explain. Sometimes he fucking hates Mia.  “No, like every time I have half a beer I feel like I’m going to ask him to marry me or move in with me or something really, really stupid, and I’m not ready for that and I don’t want to be that guy and I am totally that guy and I completely really,  _really_ , truly, totally need to spend the rest of the day not talking because I am so fucking in love with my idiot boyfriend at this crappy, sweaty, hipster-infested fucking music festival —”

“Would it be so bad?” 

“Not talking?  No, Mia.  Since that’s the goal, it would be awesome.”

“I meant, asking Will to move in with you.”  She hisses it, more than she whispers it, and that’s a thing about her Chris has always really liked.  Everything in the world is just a little cruel to her, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad.

“He’ll say no.”

 “How do you know that?”

 “Because you keep saying no.”

“That’s different.  For one thing, Will isn’t a girl who ceases to be in the shadow of you.”

“Have you  _been_  on the fucking Internet?”

She blows right by that.  No one is allowed to complain about the Internet more than her.   _No one._  “For another, you’re not Darren.”

“Oh  _point,_ ” Chris says, rocking back and forth on the lounger slightly at the total joy of  _not being Darren_.

Mia smiles, watches him quietly, lets all the ways in which this whole mess is rude just pass her by.  It doesn’t matter.  Not really.  Their deal is solid; it’s just fucking complicated.

“What if he asked you?  What would you do?” She tries.

“I’d say yes.”

“Mainly for his shitty little place in Ventura, right?”

Chris cackles.  This has always been a thing Mia has gotten about him, the normal life missed, romanticized, made stupid by.  “Totally for his shitty little place in Ventura.” 

“What if it wasn’t shitty? What if it was really nice?  What if it was beachfront fantasy?”

“I’d freak out a little.”

“Yeah?”

“And then I’d say yes.”

Mia taps him on the nose.  “So there you go.”

“Mmmmm, hate you.”

“Nope.  Not yet.”

“Not yet?”

“Not yet,” she says, smile growing.  “What do you think our boyfriends are doing?”

“Probably talking about their fucking dicks.” Chris grumbles.

“Hate me now?” Mia asks cheerfully.

“Totally hate you now,” Chris accedes.  “And if they bring us shitty hipster beer I’m tipping you, me and this chair into the dirt. 

Mia nods, satisfied.  “Cool.”


End file.
